


Strange Brew

by PunkHazard



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Gen, Halloween
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:01:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26827777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunkHazard/pseuds/PunkHazard
Summary: "One of my gym buddies is throwing an Oktoberfest house party." Warren doesn't even need to look up from checking his schedule to know that Daniel's got an incredulous expression on his face. They're a week away from Oktoberfest. "He thinks every party in October except for Halloween is an Oktoberfest," he explains, "and no one has the heart to tell him otherwise.""What do you guys even do at those parties?""Well, the invitation says we're gonna 'get wasted, beer emoji, and hook up with sorority girls, peach emoji, sweat emoji', so I've got that to look forward to."
Relationships: Daniel Jacobi & Warren Kepler & Alana Maxwell
Comments: 3
Kudos: 35





	Strange Brew

**Author's Note:**

  * For [coffeedregs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeedregs/gifts).
  * Inspired by [goddard university is a respectable establishment](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24548890) by [coffeedregs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeedregs/pseuds/coffeedregs). 



A year and a half is enough time for Daniel not to startle at the sight of his roommate hanging out in their kitchen at seven in the morning, shirt slung across his shoulders as he blends some green monstrosity for his post-workout smoothie. It's a Friday ritual at this point. Warren will chug his drink, take a shower, then head out to start his classes. 

He never seems to think anything of Daniel blearily stumbling in on him while he bobs his head to whatever song he's got playing in his headphones, occasionally singing along. Never loud enough to disturb Daniel if he's asleep, but more than enough to get him familiar with that soft, husky baritone. It's absolutely not something Daniel intends to dwell on, though, so he waits for Warren to look up and pop his earbuds out. 

"Whazzat?" Daniel asks, tipping his chin toward the blender. He yawns, slipping one hand under the hem of his shirt to scratch at his ribs while Warren pops the top off.

"Kale, bananas, yogurt and orange juice."

"Sounds good."

"Spinach," Warren continues, smirking, "whey powder, a raw egg, and half an apple. Want some?"

"Salmonella?" Daniel shoots back. "Nah, I'm good."

"The risk of salmonella is actally pretty low," Warren says, pouring him a glass anyway and then taking a swig directly from the jar, "since I got the eggs from the coop yesterday. It's only a risk with store-bought eggs because the protective membrane that keeps bacteria from getting inside gets washed out in production."

Daniel blinks at him a few times, still too groggy to properly parse his words. He'd stayed up late the night before hammering out plans with Alana. "So I'm _not_ gonna get salmonella?"

"Probably not."

Daniel accepts the glass, eyeing it warily until he takes a cautious sip and doesn't recoil at the taste. It's tangy, and very green. "Aren't you a poli sci major?" he asks, watching Warren tip his head back and dump the smoothie straight into his mouth, somewhat slowly at first and then more aggressively as the volume drops and he won't risk spilling it all over his face.

Warren takes a while to answer, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand when he finally comes up for air. "Started a minor in agricultural science over the summer," he says. "Animal husbandry concentration."

"Why?"

"Looked fun." 

Daniel makes a face, downing the rest of his smoothie. He's not really one for health shakes, and he usually declines invitations to the gym (he's not really sure why Warren goes at all; there's a set of weights right in their dorm), but not having to make breakfast usually wins out over his aversion to healthy living. "And you can just get eggs whenever you want?"

"I," answers Warren as he scrapes down the sides of the blender jar with a rubber spatula to get at the last of his smoothie, "had to stick my arm up a cow last week. It's the least they could do."

Laughing at the mental image, Daniel gestures for the blender so he can wash it and his own cup while Warren leans against the counter and pulls out his phone. "Hey," he says casually, scrubbing the glass, "you got any plans tonight?"

"One of my gym buddies is throwing an Oktoberfest house party." Warren doesn't even need to look up from checking his schedule to know that Daniel's got an incredulous expression on his face. They're a week away from Oktoberfest. "He thinks every party in October except for Halloween is an Oktoberfest," he explains, "and no one has the heart to tell him otherwise."

"What do you guys even do at those parties?"

"Well, the invitation says we're gonna 'get wasted, beer emoji, and hook up with sorority girls, peach emoji, sweat emoji', so I've got that to look forward to."

That shouldn't annoy Daniel as much as it does; Warren's a gregarious, athletic guy with a lot of friends in a bunch of different majors. His interests range from theater to basketball and rock climbing to _agriculture_ , apparently, making him a great conversationalist with just about anyone. Daniel shouldn't be all that shocked that he gets invited to parties where a bunch of guys get drunk and hook up with sorority sisters. "Oh," Daniel says, and he puts the blender jar and glass on the drying rack with an awkward clatter.

Warren looks up. 

Something flashes across his face, just a momentary hesitation, before he cups his hand over his mouth and gives Daniel a conspirator's wink. "Between you and me, though, there's only ever two girls who show up and only 'cause their boyfriends dragged 'em along." A shrug. "Usually we end up going out for late-night McDonald's." 

And that, Daniel considers, was nice of him. He's used to the eerie perceptiveness by now, and whatever out Warren is offering him, he'll happily take. " _You_ eat McDonald's?" he retorts. "You give me grief for going to _Taco Bell_."

"Look, you ever hear three sweaty, drunk frat boys have an entire conversation consisting _only_ of the word 'bro'?" Warren gives him a look, the _This is why I never let you meet my other friends-- you wouldn't understand_ eyebrow-raise. "The only appropriate thing to do is McDonald's." 

Odd phrasing, but Daniel shakes his head, trying not to be charmed. "It's fine if you just want to crush a nasty burger once in a while, Warren."

"What about you? Any plans?"

Daniel grins. "Alana says there's a big street festival in town for Halloween." Maxwell should be a great draw; Warren likes her. "It's supposed to be the best one in the state," he says.

Warren was the one who introduced them, having struck up a conversation one time they were both pulling late nights in the library for the same French lit class. She was barely seventeen, fresh out of high school trying to fulfill a language requirement, and Warren had a free block in his class schedule but somehow became really engrossed in his paper on Charles-Marie-René Leconte de Lisle. He introduced her to Jacobi shortly after with nothing but an offhand comment about how they'd probably get along, and he had been right.

(Alana had confided to Daniel much later that she thought Kepler was hitting on her at first, but he turned out to have wanted a second pair of eyes to read over a remarkably thoughtful essay about the effects of Parnassianism on Charles Baudelaire's body of work. She was duly impressed, and he appreciated her feedback enough to exchange numbers.)

"That one's pretty neat," Warren comments, nodding, because of course he'd know about local holiday festivals. "You know, my last year of high school I worked as a vampire at a local haunted house, and they warned us not to spook men because we'd get punched in the face. 'Course, I didn't listen and--"

Daniel's lucky, in some respects, that he doesn't get tired of Warren's voice. He'll tune out the actual content of his sentences and let the cadence of those long-winded stories wash over him, paying just enough mind to enough of the details to sound attentive.

"Long story short," Warren says, finally, checking his phone and realizing that he'd better wrap up this story or be late to class, "that's why I've got a lifetime ban from Fear City in South Side, Chicago."

"You want to come with me and Alana?" Daniel calls after Warren as he ducks into their room for a change of clothes. "We can get drunk and late-night McDonald's too, if that'll sweeten the deal any."

"I'm good," comes the answer, Warren ducking into the bathroom. "Have fun, though."

* * *

Despite all attempts by the school administration to get students to stop calling their Student Activities Center the SAC, Alana texts Daniel 'sac for lunch?' just as both their morning classes end. They meet outside and enter together, splitting up in the cafeteria and reconvening in the dining area. Alana scans the tables, searching for a free space or a familiar face, and then loops her arm through Daniel's to drag him toward one by the window.

They come up on Warren rolling a cherry tomato in his palm and Isabel Lovelace grinning at him from across the table. "Okay," says Lovelace, "ready."

"On my mark," Warren says. "Three, two, one-- mark."

Lovelace opens her mouth, tilting her head back as Warren sends the tomato in a high arc across the table. It bounces off her teeth and rolls across the floor, coming to a stop at the toe of Daniel's sneaker as they groan in disappointment. "Hey," Daniel says, stepping over the tomato to join the table as Warren pulls a seat for Maxwell, shifting his own chair closer to Lovelace to make space. "Thought you two had class?"

"Cancelled," Warren answers. "Professor broke her leg and sent us a powerpoint instead."

Maxwell picks up the cup by a little takeout box filled to the brim with more cherry tomatoes and takes a sip before she digs into her pasta. Beside that, Warren's slab of grilled chicken breast and a medley of steamed vegetables over brown rice. "This," says Daniel, eyeing the meal, "is the most depressing lunch I've ever seen. Thought summer's over?"

"He's cutting for Halloween," Lovelace pipes up. "Gotta fit into the costume."

"What's the costume?" asks Maxwell, expression perking.

"Haven't decided yet--"

"But he 'wants to leave open the option of going shirtless'."

"Did you know," Warren says, "in the Philippines, Christmas celebrations start in September and last through the new year? They're called the 'Ber Months', since they consist of Septem _ber_ , Octo _ber_ , Novem _ber_ and Decem _ber_." He ignores the chorus of groans to press on. "It means that Halloween and Thanksgiving are the only things keeping Christmas from encroaching on the rest of the year, and it's _important_ to celebrate the one that isn't predicated on a genocide."

"It's okay to be excited about Halloween," Maxwell says, tapping him lightly on the chest. "What's in this graveyard mix, by the way?"

"Pepsi, lemonade and raspberry iced tea. I think it's missing something."

"Where's Minkowski?" Daniel asks, turning his face to Lovelace. "She's usually free now."

"Studying for a test this afternoon."

"Maybe root beer?" Maxwell suggests.

"Nah." 

"Hey," says Lovelace, "Kepler says you two are going into town tonight? What's up?"

"Oh!" Alana straightens in her seat, suddenly _very_ interested in the question. "They have a street festival," she says, ticking items off on her fingers. "Do you want to come with us? There's hayrides, corn maze, pumpkin patch, and a haunted house. It's supposed to be the best one in the state. I read a bunch of reviews and it's supposed to be a really popular spot this time of year."

"They have one every year," Warren adds at Lovelace's curious look. "You transferred in Spring, so you missed the last one. I heard the Ag Department provides volunteers sometimes."

"They've got some custom-fabricated animatronics," Daniel chimes in. He immediately pulls out his phone and brings up a folder of pictures he'd taken of a bunch of human-shaped metal frames to show the table. "My Experimental Projects professor says he helped design 'em, and Alana was saying she wanted to 'see how his automation software interfaces with joint articulation'. You in?"

"I have plans with Renée tonight, but we'll definitely check it out on our own time." Lovelace kicks Warren's ankle under the table. "Anyone else going? Kepler?"

"Got a party tonight."

"He's ditching us for his gym buddies," Daniel tells her. 

"I know Riemann's got one going on. He sucks, though."

"Riemann isn't my _gym buddy_ ," Kepler snaps, "he's the _worst_. It's Alex Birkhoff."

"Maybe I'll drop by after dinner."

"I'll give him a heads up."

"Birkhoff? In Hermes dorm?" Daniel looks up from his food. "His roommate's Andrew Klein, right?"

Lovelace grins at him, noting the momentary furrow of Kepler's brow. "How do you know Klein?"

"Aeronautical engineering's got like twelve people in it." Andrew Klein is one of the few people in his program that Jacobi's actually friendly with. "We partnered up for a presentation on jovian-orbital flight trajectories. He's great, tell him I said hey."

After a beat of awkward silence, Lovelace elbows him in the arm. "I always forget that you're actually a nerd," she says.

Warren schools his expression. "Sure you don't want to come do it yourself?" he asks.

"Uh _yeah_ , I'm sure. I can sit in a house and get drunk any time."

* * *

Warren's combing his hair into his usual look, the side part waxed up and to the side, when he hears the main door swing open, two sets of footsteps shuffle in, then the door shutting. He takes his time brushing his teeth, applying a subtle spritz of cologne, and popping the collar of his pastel blue Polo before heading out to greet Daniel. "What're you two doing back?" he asks, crossing his arms over his chest as he regards the two dejected shapes slumped on his couch. 

"Shuttle bus broke down," Daniel grumbles. "Said it'll be up again tomorrow, but--"

"This was my last free night until mid-November." Alana's hunched over the armrest, her voice muffled into her elbows. "Starting tomorrow, my astrophysics class is meeting every weeknight until the Nezha launch in Dongfeng." 

"And there's no way in hell I'm going through a haunted house by myself." Daniel looks up, taking a moment even in his disappointment to appreciate the way Warren's shirt sits on his shoulders, the way fitted black jeans flatter his legs. It's a little early for a house party; most of them don't start until well after nine. "You're leaving already?"

"I was just about to head out for some food," answers Warren. He jingles his keys. "You two hungry?"

"No," Daniel sighs.

Maxwell answers, equally depressed, "I'm good."

Heading to the main door with his jacket, Warren hovers in the entrance for a few seconds. "Okay there?"

"Yeah," Daniel groans, "it's _fine_."

"You two... wanna go to Birkhoff's tonight? Consolation prize?"

"Nah. Have fun." Daniel heaves another sigh, one from deep in his lungs. "Be safe."

"Well," answers Warren, inching out the door and shutting it behind him, "let me know if you change your minds."

* * *

He makes it to the parking lot, palm on the driver-side handle of his lightly-modded Honda Civic, before Warren turns around and heads back upstairs. He shoulders open the door and flashes Daniel and Alana a wry grin when they lift their heads from their melancholy stupors to look at him. "I expect," he announces, "to be extremely drunk with a nasty burger in my hand at the end of the night. One of you is driving back. Let's go."

"Uh," says Alana.

Daniel asks, "Warren?"

"Did I stutter?"

"It's like an hour away," Daniel says, already scrambling to his feet. Alana's still staring at him, her eyes wide. "You sure?"

"I'll make it worth my time," Warren insists. "Might even have myself a _fancy_ burger. There's pretty nifty diner in town that goes all-out for Halloween."

Not usually one to question when something goes his way, Daniel pulls on his jacket and tosses Alana hers. "What about Birkhoff?"

"He'll have more house parties. I already texted him." Warren opens the door wider and steps outside into the hall. "Are you hungry? I'm hungry."

"I'm _starving_ ," Alana tells him, falling into step behind him as he leads them out of the dorm. Warren decides not to point out her change of mind from no more than five minutes ago, but he does flash Daniel a grin when she catches the hem of his jacket and gives it a grateful tug. Then she's off, practically flying down the steps and out the door of the dormitory building for the parking lot.

"Hey," Daniel says, hovering by Warren's elbow while he locks the door, "thanks. Alana says her family never let her do Halloween, so this meant a lot to her."

"Don't mention it," Warren answers, tucking his hands into his pockets. He bumps Daniel's shoulder with his own, and takes his time following Alana out to his car. "You two looked like kicked puppies."

At the bottom of the steps, Daniel catches him by the arm. "Why'd you change your mind?" he asks. "You don't have to do this if you've got stuff going on. Maybe I can drop you off and drive me and Maxwell into town." 

Warren turns laughing, light grey eyes on him as he pulls away. "Well," he says, "like you said, I can get drunk in Birkhoff's house anytime."

"That," Daniel shouts after his retreating back, "wasn't what I said!"

**Author's Note:**

> as requested by @flvegayz on twitter (':


End file.
